These Are The Thoughts

These are the thoughts that go through my head in my
Backyard on a Sunday afternoon
When I have the house to myself and I'm not expending
All that energy on fighting with my boyfriend

Is he the one that I will marry?
Why is it so hard to be objective about myself?
Why do I feel cellularly alone?
Am I supposed to live in this crazy city?
Can blindly continued fear
Induced regurgitated life-denying tradition be overcome?

Where does the money go that I send to those in need?
If we have so much why do some people have nothing still?
Why do I feel frantic when I first wake up in the morning?
Why do you say you are spiritual yet you treat people like shit?

How can you say you're close to god and yet you talk behind
My back as though I am not a part of you?
Why do I say I'm fine when it's obvious I'm not?
Why's it so hard to tell you what I want?
Why can't you just read my mind?

Why do I fear that the quieter I am the
less you will listen?
Why do I care whether you like me or not?
Why is it so hard for me to be angry?
Why is it such work to stay conscious and
So easy to get stuck and not the other way around?

Will I ever move back to canada?
Can I be with a lover with whom I am a student and
a master?
Why am I encouraged to shut my mouth when it gets too
close to home?
Why cannot I live in the moment?